The Quaker and the Cherokee
by highland laurel
Summary: When Mingo's Cherokee relatives find an injured Quaker youth, Mingo tries to help the young man find his missing family.
1. Chapter 1

THE QUAKER AND THE CHEROKEE

THE QUAKER AND THE CHEROKEE

Chapter 1

Mingo was leaned back in his willow-twig chair reading his copy of "Common Sense" when he heard the commotion outside of Menewa's lodge. Rising quickly he ducked under the door covering and saw a small hunting party clustered by his uncle's door, talking excitedly. Before them on the ground lay the still body of a young man, clad in unusual black clothing. Tekawitha and her mother were bending over the man trying to discover the cause for his unconsciousness.

He walked to stand beside his uncle. Menewa explained that the hunting party had discovered the youth lying near a spring less than a mile from the village. Since the village was much closer than Boonesborough the men had brought him here. Mingo nodded his understanding and agreement. He glanced down at the man's still face. Young, probably not twenty, slender, dark brown hair. Mingo recognized the clothing from his brief visits to Philadelphia. The man was a Quaker.

The two women decided to take the unconscious man into Menewa's lodge and tend him there. Understanding the probable discomfort that the youth would feel inside a family lodge, Mingo suggested that they take him into his own lodge. Menewa narrowed his eyes briefly as he gazed at his nephew and saw the younger man's slight blush. A small smile touched the older man's lips and he nodded his approval. Mingo walked back to his lodge and readied his narrow bed to accept the limp body. Then he took his gun and left his lodge to the two women and their charge.

Returning after dark with a young buck for his aunt Mingo inquired about the young man's progress. Atsila reported that the youth had not yet awakened. Tekawitha remained with him. Mingo sat and ate with his uncle's family, spending several hours with them telling stories and laughing at family memories. When he rose to enter his own lodge the bright summer moon had risen over the tall Kentucky trees.

Ducking inside his own home, Mingo saw Tekawitha asleep in his chair. He lightly touched her shoulder and she woke instantly. She reported no change to the young man's condition, then left Mingo to care for the youth through the night.

Mingo leaned over the young man. His clothing had been removed except for his long white shirt, which was now serving as a nightshirt. Mingo smiled to himself. Tekawitha had remembered the white culture's abhorrence for nakedness and contrived to ease the youth's chagrin if he should waken and find a young woman tending his naked body. 

As he straightened Mingo felt a sneeze coming on and turned his head. The quick explosion of breath caused the youth to stir and open his eyes. He blinked twice, then turned his head and saw the tall Cherokee standing beside his bed. His eyes filled with surprise, but not fear. Mingo saw the expression and was also surprised. A white man awakening beside an Indian and not being afraid?

Leaning over the bed once again Mingo spoke softly, using short sentences and easy words. "You are safe here with us. We are Cherokee. A hunting party found you near a spring and brought you here. You were unconscious a long time. Can you tell me who you are and what you are doing deep in the Kentucky woods alone?"

The youth attempted to sit up. Mingo grasped his upper arm and pulled steadily. Once seated, the young man put both hands to his head as though he feared it would detach from his body. Mingo watched carefully, ready to catch him and lay him back down if necessary. But the spine stiffened and the hands came down as the youth turned his head to look into the Cherokee's handsome face.

"I am William Sawyer, of Philadelphia. I was on my way to meet my family in Boonesborough. I was traveling with a party consisting of two wagons and two pack mules. The men said that they were surveyors hired to plot a road through to the Mississippi River. This morning I was walking ahead of the group when something or someone must have struck me from behind. That's all I know." He paused and placed his hands against his head once again. "Except that my head feels like it is split in two." He grimaced and smiled crookedly at Mingo. 

Mingo nodded. "Lie back down and I will soon return with something to help your headache." He strode to Tekawitha's lodge and returned with a brew of willow bark. He held the horn cup while the youth drank the entire potion. 

"Are you able to eat something? I think you'd feel better if you could." Mingo continued to watch for signs of dizziness in William, but the young man seemed to be on the mend. He slightly nodded his head in response to Mingo's question and the tall Indian left the lodge once again. He was back in less than five minutes with a bowl of hot venison stew. 

William ate slowly, waiting between bites to make sure the food would stay on his churning stomach. He managed to eat half of the portion before handing it back to Mingo. He lay back in Mingo's bed with a groan and fell asleep almost instantly. Mingo made sure that he was breathing easily, then turned to go back to Menewa's lodge with the information that he had received.

The youth had sustained a severe blow to the back of his head. There was a large knot behind his right ear and the scalp was abraded, the hair sticky with dried blood. Tekawitha gently washed the affected area the next morning and decided that it did not need to be bandaged. She reassured him in her unsteady English and left him alone in Mingo's lodge. He very slowly pulled his trousers onto his lower body. When he felt steadier, he attempted to stand. Severe dizziness forced him to sit back down on the narrow bed. Mingo came through the door and immediately understood what the youth was trying to do. He firmly grasped William by the upper arms and pulled. Slowly the young man was able to stand with Mingo's supporting arm around his shoulders. He staggered to the open doorway. Very carefully Mingo helped him to the nearby woods to attend to the call of nature. 

When they returned Tekawitha was there with a steaming bowl of venison stew and two corn cakes. William managed to eat most of the stew and both corn cakes. Then Mingo helped him lie back on the bed where he fell into a much-needed sleep. 

Awakening after a two hour nap, William sat up in Mingo's bed and swung his feet to the floor. Behind him Mingo rose from his chair with a copy of the Iliad still in his hand. The Quaker's eyes fell on the volume and his eyebrows rose. Mingo saw the gesture and surmised the reason. He chuckled softly and smiled down into the young man's blue eyes.

"I am a graduate of Oxford. I enjoy exercising my mind as much as my body. I believe both are necessary for complete health. Speaking of which, you seem to be on the mend. If that is true, I can take you to Boonesborough tomorrow. We are only a short distance away, less than a day's travel."

William raised his eyes to Mingo's face. "Yes, I will be ready tomorrow. My family must be worried. I was to meet them the first of June, but I got a late start because of the slow spring in the mountains. I will try to rest today so that I will be strong enough tomorrow. And thank you, and your family, for my care." The smile was warm and genuine. Mingo smiled back and nodded. William lay back on Mingo's bed and slipped into a light sleep. Mingo left the lodge, met a group of friends and spent the day in good-natured competitions with his fellow Cherokee.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mingo walked slowly to accommodate William's unsteady stride. The young Quaker was not fully recovered but was determined to arrive at Boonesborough before the day ended. They made frequent stops. William chafed at his slowness but Mingo assured him that they could still make the fort before dark. They sat beside a small clear creek to eat their jerky when the sun was full in the sky. The day was very warm and the heat was further sapping William's strength. Mingo was secretly concerned about the young man's health. His skin was very pale and his breath came in short gasps. His hair was soaked with sweat even though he carried his coat in his arms. When Mingo suggested that William take a short nap, the youth pushed himself off of the rock on which he was sitting and swayed on his feet. His action conveyed his determination and Mingo's respect for the young man grew, though his concern did not diminish.

By early evening Mingo was supporting William with his left arm as the young man staggered through the fort's gates. Nearly dragging the youth, Mingo leaned his gun against the outside wall of Cincinnatus' tavern and lifted the heavy door latch. Cincinnatus looked up and rushed across the plank floor to help pull the fainting Quaker into the room. Between them Cincinnatus and Mingo were able to get the young man up the stairs and onto the bed before he completely passed out. 

Mingo removed the man's shoes and covered him with a light quilt. Then he beckoned Cincinnatus through the door. The two men descended the stairs together. When Mingo went back for his gun the tavern keeper poured his friend a mug of ale. Mingo nodded gratefully as he raised the mug and took a long swallow. Dabbing the drops from his lips with the back of his hand, Mingo began to question Cincinnatus about a Quaker family that may be waiting for their son to arrive at the fort. Cincinnatus shook his head in the negative.

"There ain't been any Quakers around here a'tall, least not that I know about. Have you checked with Dan'l?"

"No, I don't think William could have made the additional half mile. You were closer."

"That's a fact. He seems all tuckered out. What's wrong with him?"

"He took a severe blow to the head a few days ago. One of our hunting parties found him. He's been in my bed for the past two days. He said that he was traveling with a surveying party. Do you know anything about a party of surveyors?" 

Cincinnatus thought for several seconds, then shook his head once again. Mingo pursed his lips and took another sip of the ale. "When he wakes up, please give him something to eat. Place the cost on my account. I am going to see Daniel. I'll spend the night there and return here tomorrow morning. Something is amiss or I'm growing awfully suspicious as I age!" He downed the remaining ale, slapped his hand on the counter and strode through the door. Behind him Cincinnatus wiped the bar and prepared a plate of turkey and potatoes for his overnight guest.

Daniel knew nothing of a Quaker family in the Boonesborough area or of a surveying party traveling to the Mississippi. Like Mingo, his suspicions were aroused. The two men discussed the various possibilities, from the blow on the head befuddling William's mind to criminal activity on the part of the "surveying party". 

"Daniel, you are familiar with Quakers." Mingo was aware of the Boone family's association with the Society of Friends. "Would a single family travel here, alone?"

"They might. It could be that they had a fallin' out with their local meeting. I've heard that some meetings flat out refuse any participation in the revolution but others allow their members to choose their own path according to their measure of 'light'. Or they could be missionaries." 

Mingo pondered Daniel's statement. s a student at Oxford he had been exposed to philosophy and religion, and the Friends' beliefs were dismissed as nonsense. However, being of a curious nature Mingo had read a pamphlet written by William Penn and been intrigued by the concept of guidance by an inner light. He had investigated a small meeting in London and been impressed by the welcoming nature of the membership. His seared heart had been soothed by the Friends' view that all races were equally children of God and therefore all inheritors of the Kingdom. 

His father found the pamphlet in his room and another of their frequent bitter arguments had ensued. The Earls of Dunsmore were staunchly Anglican, and that was the end to it. Sensitive and torn, Mingo had not investigated any further. But he never forgot the warm acceptance that he found in the Friends' quiet company. William's reaction to seeing him in Menewa's village reinforced the feeling and he was determined to help the Quaker youth no matter what it took.

Coming back to the present, Mingo shook his head to clear his thoughts and found Daniel looking at him quizzically. He raised his hand in a gesture of dismissal, stood and yawned. "I will stay the night, if I am welcome." His black eyebrows raised and his eyes conveyed humor. Daniel grinned in return and laid his big hand on the Cherokee's shoulder. 

"You are always welcome here, and you know it. Good night." Daniel pulled his boots off and walked silently into the bedroom where Becky was already asleep.

"But I have _not_ always been welcome, Daniel," Mingo whispered, remembering two bitter events that had marred their friendship. Sighing, the tall dark man continued to sit beside the dying fire, lost in the past.

Just after sunrise Mingo walked to Cincinnatus' tavern to check on William. When he entered the large room he found the young man seated at a table eating a large breakfast of eggs and turkey hash. He smiled when he saw the Cherokee enter and waved him over. Mingo smiled back and seated himself in front of the young man. Cincinnatus called from behind the bar to ask if he wanted a cup of coffee, and Mingo accepted the mug of dark liquid. 

"You look much better this morning, I must say. I was more than a little concerned about you last evening."

William smiled again and touched the back of his head. The scalp was totally closed and the knot was less than half the size that it had been. "I think that I will live, though I wasn't too sure about twelve hours ago. I don't remember this building at all, or the fort. Did you have to carry me?" The man's face colored in embarrassment. 

"Uh, no, but I was fairly dragging you the last half mile or so. You were really not well enough to have attempted the journey, William." Mingo's eyes conveyed his concern, and the young man lowered his head.

"I'm worried about my folks. They aren't here, are they? If they were, you would have told them that I was in Boonesborough and they'd be right here now. I will have to try and follow their trail back to Philadelphia. But I'm not sure which way they came. I think it was the southern way." His voice quivered and he swallowed to steady it. Mingo felt sympathy for the young man but carefully concealed the emotion so as not to further embarrass William. 

"There are two usual routes. Tell me which one you followed and we will take the other."

"I didn't pay much attention I'm afraid. I'm not a natural woodsman, and I trusted my guides." He swallowed then leaned over confidentially. "Do you suspect that they are the ones that knocked me out? If so,why?"

"Several indicators suggest that they are. One, my friends found only you. Two, there was no evidence that there were other injured nearby. Three, you were struck from behind. As to why, I have no idea. You didn't have a large amount of money on you did you?"

"Not a large amount. Only a few pounds sterling. It is gone." The young man's conveyed his embarrassment.

Mingo was silent for several seconds. He knew that some men would kill for pennies on the dollar. He strongly suspected that the young Quaker had indeed been the victim of robbery. William continued to look into Mingo's dark eyes. He saw the confirmation of his own suspicions. He sighed and bent his head. 

"The money doesn't matter. I need to find my parents, my brothers and sister. They should have been here long ago. I assume that you have already investigated this also and that no one here has seen them."

Mingo nodded silently. Then he rose and walked to where Cincinnatus was rearranging stock behind his counter. "Cincinnatus, please outfit me with the necessaries for a two week journey. And give William a like amount. Put it all on my account, please. "

The youth protested from the table. "You have taken debt on my account already. I can't allow more."

Mingo smiled again. "William, you can repay me when you are settled. I am not worried in the least."

The young Quaker smiled in appreciation and finished his breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The two men stopped by Daniel Boone's cabin before they began their journey. Mingo discussed his plan to follow the southern route to the Carolinas and then north to Philadelphia. From William's descriptions of landmarks that he remembered Mingo had decided that the youth had come down the northern trail. Daniel volunteered to go with them, but Mingo caught the look on Rebecca's face and declined.

Though Daniel would be a welcome travel companion, especially since William was a frontier novice, Mingo wanted an opportunity to talk privately with the Quaker youth about the ideas he had read about many years previously. Plus Mingo had already grown very fond of the younger man and wanted to explore the relationship that was growing. Though slightly ashamed to admit it, he was concerned that Daniel would find common ground with William and he would be left out. Conflicting emotions were not new to the half-breed Cherokee but they were still uncomfortable. He masked his feelings carefully and left the Boone cabin with a friendly wave of his hand.

William had been given a gun, shot and powder as well as two weeks of provisions in his pack. He had carefully rolled his long black coat and placed it into his leather pouch. His blanket was tied to the bottom of the pack just like Mingo's. Inside his pouch Cincinnatus placed a quarter-pound of sugar, a half-pound of coffee, and a small bag of salt. The two men would shoot, trap or catch their meals. The Kentucky summer was full upon the land and the forest teemed bountifully. They would not be hungry.

They stopped for a breather about two hours into their journey. Mingo knew that William had not fully recovered his customary vigor, and though the youth did not complain his tight colorless lips told the Cherokee that his head was pounding with his exertion. A small creek flowed where they stopped and after a drink of clear water William seemed to regain strength. They continued on for several more miles and Mingo shot a rabbit for lunch. The two men made short work of the meat, washed it down with a drink from another creek, and proceeded. William was as reticent as Mingo. The two men felt a natural bond as they traveled in silence.

As the shadows lengthened toward evening Mingo stopped in a little glade sheltered by a rock outcropping. He instructed William to sit and rest while he gathered enough firewood for the night. When he returned only minutes later William was leaned back against the rocks sound asleep. Moving very quietly, Mingo started a fire, dipped water into his pot from a large creek several yards away and started the coffee to boiling. He took his gun and shot a small turkey in the span of only a few minutes. Cleaned and plucked, the bird was roasting over the coals within the hour. Mingo sat quietly and drank a cup of black coffee while he allowed his mind to wander where it would. He hummed softly to himself. The tune was an old sea chantey that he had heard on his crossing back from England. Lost in memory, he did not notice William's eyes open.

"Mingo." William's voice was low and confidential. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you need my help, son. And I am quite willing. Are you imagining that I am doing all the giving and you are only receiving? " His dark eyes glanced at the pale young man propped against the rocks. He saw William nod three times, his blue eyes cast down in shame.

"That is not the case, my friend." Mingo smiled at the word's double meaning, then continued. "I wish to know you better. Your religion is a puzzle to me and I wish you to clarify it for me. "

"Why? So you can mock me?"

Mingo's head snapped to the side. "Do I give you that impression?" His words were sharper than he intended. He swallowed and continued. "Many years ago I read a small pamphlet by William Penn. I am curious about several tenets of your religion. I seek knowledge, William, not ammunition to fire my own prejudices."

William's blue eyes probed Mingo's. After several seconds he nodded once, then sighed. "My mother would be the best person to ask. She is a recorded minister. She has a way of explaining things." William smiled gently. "She's a pretty woman, Mingo. She's tall for a woman, with dark brown hair like mine and blue eyes. Her voice is sweet, comforting. My father is so proud of her. My sister isn't like her at all. She favors my father. He's just a little taller than my mother, with dark brown hair and blue eyes too. Anyway, she can answer any question that you'd have. "

Mingo pondered the boy's information. A woman minister? The concept was unknown to him in Christianity. Greeks and Romans had women priestesses. The Celts had women priestesses. But a woman minister? Never.

"Excuse my manners, William! Here, son. It's strong and hot. Just what you need." Mingo reached over and extended a cup of hot coffee to the youth. William took it gratefully and leaned back once again. In the firelight Mingo could tell that the young man was worn out from the day's travel. To cover his concern he took his knife out of its scabbard and poked the roasting turkey. He had seasoned it with salt and some wild herbs. It smelled delicious. He cut a small slice to test for doneness. It tasted good too. He sliced out several pieces and handed them to William. Then he sliced some for himself, and the two men ate and talked as the night sounds began all around them.

They walked through the gap near the border. Their pace remained slow because though he tried to hide the fact, William was still unsteady on his feet. Mingo had seen him gingerly stroke his head when he thought that his companion was not looking. He remained pale and had little appetite. Mingo was concerned and tried to convince the youth to stop and wait at a promising campsite until his strength returned. But William was becoming frantic with worry as each day brought no sign of his missing family.

Every night around the campfire William explained the Quaker viewpoint on a variety of subjects and answered Mingo's questions as well as he was able. Mingo's facile mind was receptive to the completely different outlook offered by the Society of Friends. He quickly saw that many of the world's ills would be completely cured if mankind could adopt the Quaker viewpoint. He also understood that it was impossible.

He had many, many experiences that proved his point: man was not able to live as God intended. He was corrupt in nature, greedy, expedient and arrogant, cruel. Over the long hours William came to see that Mingo's Cherokee people were actually closer to the Quaker ideal than were the colonists who called themselves Christian. When he expressed his thoughts to Mingo the older man smiled and nodded his head in agreement.

"Perhaps this is the reason that Indians have a better relationship with Friends than with other whites." Mingo's voice was bright with discovery. Beside him, William smiled in return. It was then that Mingo noticed that his companion's right eye didn't seem to track with the left. Alarmed, the tall man suggested that it was time to end the discussion and sleep. Without another word William stretched out on the ground, pulled his blanket around himself and was instantly asleep. Mingo felt a twinge of guilt that he had not noticed his friend's distress and cut short the discussion.

He sat alone before the small fire for another hour, reviewing the discussion in his mind. He decided that he would try and order essays written by William Penn through Cincinnatus when he returned to Boonesborough. Mingo was looking forward to hearing William's mother's explanations and meeting his whole family. He felt that he would like each and every one.

The next morning the two men found the ruined campsite. Mingo smelled the burned-out wagon before he saw anything and put out his hand to stop his companion. The other heavy odor was unmistakable. Mingo closed his eyes and steeled himself for what he knew he was about to find. Bidding William sit behind a screen of wild honeysuckle Mingo crouched and stealthily approached the site from upwind. He listened carefully for several minutes before moving forward enough to see the carnage.

Before him were five bodies. They had been dead many days. Three were children. One was a girl around the age of six. Two were teenaged boys. Two were adults, a man and a woman. Arrows littered the ground. Mingo pulled one out to look it over carefully. He did not recognize the markings and that puzzled him. Then he glanced down at the ground and noticed footprints preserved in what had been a puddle. They were moccasin prints, but they did not toe in like Indians did. The tracks were made by white men. White men who shot arrows into innocent travelers so that when they were found innocent Indians would die. Mingo closed his eyes in despair and swallowed the lump that had risen to close his throat. How could he tell William?

Behind him he heard a gasp, then a moan. He spun on his heel and reached for the young man. Pushing him backwards so that he could not still see the massacred bloated bodies, Mingo stood in front of William and tried to comfort him. But words could not remove the images from the youth's mind or the pain from his heart, and he began to retch. He fell to his knees and vomited until there was no more matter in his stomach to expel. The violence of his body's response caused his head to explode in pain and he fell onto his side and lay still.

In panic Mingo felt for the young man's heartbeat and bent to listen for breath. There was none. Mingo slapped William's white face but there was no response. He frantically searched for water and found a little spring just yards away. He grabbed his tin cup from his pouch and filled it quickly, then flung the entire cupful on William's still face. There was no automatic flinch, no intake of breath. The Quaker youth lay dead within feet of his murdered family.

Mingo spent the rest of that horrible day laying the blameless family to their rest in the still Kentucky woodlands. He dug one large grave, placed the parents in first side by side, then the four children with William nearest his mother. He covered them with green branches to symbolize life then carefully filled the grave with earth. It was nearly dark when he finished. He stayed beside the grave the entire night, singing Cherokee songs of grief. As the morning light began to glow in the treetops he pulled boards off of the ruined wagon until he was able to free an unburned length about two feet long. With his knife he carved two words: "Six Friends". Below the words he etched the name "Sawyer". He reverently placed the board as a marker, then allowed his tears to drip onto the freshly turned earth.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He arrived outside Daniel's cabin a week later. Daniel noticed him approaching from the east and was alarmed at his friend's appearance. Always slender, the dark Cherokee was thin and dirtier than Daniel had ever seen him. His normally easy long stride was choppy and unsteady. Daniel dropped the axe and hurried to Mingo's side. It was then that the tall frontiersman noticed the glazed look of the man's dark eyes.

"Becky!" Daniel loudly called his wife. Between the two of them they got their friend inside their cabin and laid him in their own bed. He passed out of consciousness immediately. Becky laid her white hand on his forehead to check for fever. There was none. They could find no evidence of any wounds. She raised puzzled eyes to her husband. Daniel shrugged. 

"Guess we'll just have to wait 'til he wakes up. Must o' been somethin' terrible to make him look like this!"

Becky nodded and rose to prepare a hearty soup to feed Mingo when he woke. He looked like he hadn't eaten for days. Daniel took a basin of hot water into the bedroom and began to wash his unconscious friend and comb the trail debris out of his long black hair. More alarmed than he was willing to admit, he sat beside Mingo until the wan Cherokee slowly opened his shadowed eyes.

"Daniel." Mingo's usually warm voice was hollow and seemed to come from far away. Dan leaned over to better hear Mingo's soft words. "I found the family murdered. William is dead. His head wound was not healed. The strain killed him. They are all dead, Daniel. All of them are dead. Dead." He kept repeating that final word like it held a meaning that was escaping Daniel. He patted Mingo's muscled arm in sympathy and called for Becky to bring the soup. Daniel rose and allowed Becky to feed Mingo. When she finished she stepped into the main cabin and bent to her husband.

"He wants to see you, Dan. I want him to sleep but he insists on talking to you first. Make it short. He's very weak."

Daniel nodded and stepped to Mingo's side. Hearing Daniel's steps, Mingo opened his dark brown eyes and Daniel read the despair and hopelessness there. Frowning, Dan sat down in the chair and leaned forward.

"Becky wants you to go to sleep Mingo. You'll feel better in the mornin'. There's plenty of time to talk then."

"No Daniel. I want an answer now. How is it possible? How can men be so brutal? That family was harmless. They would have given away their last possession. There was no reason to kill them. That beautiful, kind woman! And the little girl." Mingo swallowed. "Daniel, she was six years old. Six! What threat was she to them?" Mingo's agitation was rising. He pulled himself up to lean on his left elbow. His right hand clutched Daniel's shirt. "You were raised in Quaker company. Why does the world hate them so? Is it because by their very existence they put the rest of us to shame? Tell me Daniel. Tell me!"

Daniel cleared his throat and swallowed. He knew that he had to find a way to pacify his friend enough so that he could find rest. Dan could see the Cherokee's ribs and collarbone plainly through his buckskin vest. The experiences over the past week had thrown his friend into such turmoil that he had starved himself. Mingo's hand clutching his shirt front trembled with the strain. Daniel gripped the man's wrist and answered the best that he could.

"Mingo, Quakers are a strange people. They don't seem to belong in this world somehow. It's like they see a world that doesn't exist and believe that by seein' it that way, it IS that way. You and I know that's not true. We can't change something by wishin' it wasn't so. We have to live in the world as it is. We have to meet it on its terms. Gentle folk get trampled, and that's the honest hard truth." 

"Then shouldn't the rest of us, the strong ones, protect them? "

Daniel nodded his head. "I think that we do. As much as we can. But the gentle folk have to LET us protect 'em. And Quakers have a problem with that. They don't want someone else protectin' 'em. They believe that they can change the world by their example. They believe that if they show the way long enough, hard enough, then men like those that slaughtered William's family will change. They just don't understand the folly of their beliefs Mingo. They just don't. And you can't change that by starvin' yourself." Daniel looked deeply into his friend's troubled eyes. He saw the pain in the clear dark depths. 

"How do we honor them, then, Daniel? They do deserve honor. They possess a bravery unlike any of the rest of us."

"Well Mingo, I think you can better think of a way to honor them when you get to feelin' better. Make that the reason to get well if you need to. Right now sleep is what you need the most. We'll see you tomorrow." Daniel released his friend's wrist and Mingo let go of Daniel's shirt. His hand dropped beside his tall frame as he lay back. He closed his dark eyes and in seconds was asleep. Daniel covered him with the blanket and went to join Rebecca before the fire.

It took an entire day of recovery before Mingo was strong enough to walk outside unsupported. The summer day was fading into evening and the first stars were coming out. Mingo sat on a stump ten yards from the house watching the heavens darken. Daniel quietly approached and Mingo waved him closer. The two men silently watched the moon rise over the far horizon. 

"Daniel, I am sorry if I upset you last night. I had been fighting the battle alone for days and I wasn't myself."

"I know that Mingo. Don't fret. And you didn't ask me anything that I haven't asked myself at one time or another. I saw my own folks get wounded by mean words and deeds the whole time I was a boy. I never could believe as firm as they did. I guess the world is too real for me. But I respected 'em. And you're right about their bravery. It's a different kind of bravery than we've got. But it's bravery. "

"I can't get the image out of my mind, Daniel. That innocent family lying bloated in the Kentucky heat. The birds and varmints had been feeding. I have seen many horrible sights in my lifetime, Daniel. But I have never before seen anything so shattering. It is no wonder that the sight killed William." Mingo let loose a deep, quivering sigh. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly. 

Daniel imagined the sight in his own mind. He swallowed. He had buried many massacre victims but never an entire family of gentle, innocent people like the Sawyers had been. Knowing Mingo's sensitive nature the ordeal must have been nearly overwhelming. He was glad that Mingo had come to him with his grief. The knowledge warmed his heart and he reached out to pat Mingo's shoulder. 

A soft breeze began to blow. Minute by minute more stars appeared as the sky shaded from deep blue to black. Mingo spoke softly. "Daniel, remember the Seven Sisters?" He pointed to the starry sky above them. "I will always think of William and his family now when I gaze at that constellation." 

Daniel turned to his friend. "There's seven stars in that group Mingo. Who's the seventh star?" When Mingo did not answer, the big frontiersman did not repeat the question. He knew the answer. And he allowed his friend the privacy he deserved. 

CC March 22, 2008


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